“And I tell you she’s gone to the devil,” returned the chief.
“What do you mean, Brandon?”
“Simply what I say; that infernal white ranger known as Rainbolt, rode right into camp—picked up your girl, and—”
“And what?” gasped the robber-captain with impatient rage and fury.
“And went—to—the—devil with her, as I told you before,” returned, with emphasis, the chief.
The robber-captain ground his teeth with rage, stamped his foot with fury, and swore a terrible oath.
“Come, come, Dungarvon! I am going—”
“Yes, yes!” returned Dungarvon, savagely, “you’re always going to do something. Just like as any way, the girl’s in California by this time.”
“Not a bit of it, Captain Duval,” returned Black Bear; “that girl is in these ‘Hills,’ and wherever Rainbolt is, she is, also; and I know he is not far away.”
“Well, how do you know?”